


What’s It Gonna Be

by deicide



Category: Django Unchained (2012)
Genre: 3am thoughts evolve into complex plotline: an autobiography, F/M, HES LITERALLY CREDITED AS "DON GUS/SNOWY SNOW" IM DEAD, crosspublished on fanfiction.net, never forget sheriff snowy snow 2k17, sex scene warning lmao
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-24
Updated: 2017-03-30
Packaged: 2018-10-08 02:29:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10375815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deicide/pseuds/deicide
Summary: The sheriff's daughter has fallen hopelessly for King and there is nothing within his power to stop her from chasing him.





	1. Prologue

SOUTH DAKOTA, NOVEMBER 1858

The sky had turned purple. Flecks of the retreating sun glinted off the snow, casting a faint glitter on every surface in town. It had been a particularly rough winter throughout the mountains, and Fort Pierre did not go overlooked. The two men rode in side by side, their horses leaving behind empty channels as they kicked up the thick blankets of snow. Not a word had transpired between the two for an hour, not that there was much to say.

Django tried to sound out the words to himself as he sauntered past the town's wooden placard.

"...Welcome...to Fort," he squinted. "Py-ree...Chot--Chotao."

He heard King chuckle ahead of him. "Pierre Chouteau, my boy. It's French," he pulled ever so slightly on Fritz's reigns as they approached a familiar log cabin.

"This where the sheriff live?" Django asked, slowing his own horse to a halt by the wooden steps. King hopped off his saddle and dusted off a sprinkling of snow on Fritz's rear.

"Indeed it is," he took Tony's reigns as Django jumped down, tying the two horses in place. "Do you--"

" _King Schultz!_ "

Django and King turned their heads to find the door to the cabin swung wide open, the sheriff leaning against the frame. "Wasn't expectin' you back so soon."

King hummed. "My apologies for the short notice-- the blizzard out east died out much quicker than I anticipated." He smiled, taking his hat off as he walked up the steps towards the taller man. Django followed wordlessly.

"Oh, Sheriff, I'd like to introduce you to my deputy, Django. Django, this is Sheriff Don Gus," he chirped, allowing the men space to shake hands.

"King's told me plenty 'bout you, Django. Says you're one hell of a shot." Django glanced at Schultz, who shrugged nonchalantly. "Y'all hungry? The missus is finishin' up some rabbit stew. Dinner'll be ready by the time y'all're done unpackin'."

"Sounds delicious. Django?" King called, holding the door open. He slunk inside, thumbs in his pockets.

Gus gestured towards the freeman. "Quiet feller, huh?"

"Full of mysteries," King raised his eyebrows and chuckled, leaning back further into the door. "After you, sheriff."

* * *

 

"Doctor Schultz?" the child stared across the table at him, his brown eyes wide and glassy.

"Yes, my boy."

"You kill people, right?"

" _Solomon!_ " Mrs. Gus could've reached across the table and choked him. "Not at the dinner table."

Marion Culver Gus was, in appearances, quite unremarkable. Blue eyes, light hair that greyed at the roots. Not too thin, but not full figured. Pale, as were most women in the mountains. Exhaustion from dealing with three unruly children all day clear on her face, but a cheerful attitude to make up for it.

King chuckled and bit a chunk of rabbit off his spoon.

He could feel something kicking him under the table.

He glared up at the girl sitting across from him. She hadn't bothered fixing the stray hairs she'd mussed up. The dark strands flopped in her face and she blew them up from her bright eyes, scowling as they fell into the contents of her spoon. She was trouble wrapped in pink paper and silk ribbon.

King had known her since a year prior, when he'd rode into town alone in need of a bounty. The sheriff had generously offered a meal and a room to board in until the mid-December freeze thawed enough for him to keep moving.

At first he didn't quite understand. It confused him immensely that such a fresh young girl with such prospects in life would even look twice at a man like him, but that was quickly forgotten when her soft lips brushed against his in the dark guest room, touching just enough to feel the electricity but not enough to satisfy him. She moved no closer, daring him to kiss her.

He couldn't bring himself to do it then, thinking it indecent to shove his tongue down the throat of his kind host's young daughter.

That consideration of decency, he noted, did not make her very happy.

Now approaching nineteen, Violet already had her mind made up. There was nothing else she wanted more in the world than him. He was hers.

"So," she implored unamused, shifting her catty gaze to Django. "Who's your little friend, doctor?"

King cleared his throat and put his hand on the taller man's shoulder. "This, Miss Violet, is Django Freeman--he's my deputy. He's come all the way from Texas to assist me in my work."

She hummed in accordance, seemingly now more interested in picking at the broth that was now drying in her hair. She bit her lip as she placed her elbows on the tabletop, fanning the strands up against the light.

" _Violet Abigail_ ," Marion gritted, her jaw tight. " _Elbows off the table, young lady_."

The girl stifled a grin and laid her hands in her lap, fiddling with the skirt of her dress. As her mother whispered something to little Solomon, Violet slinked back in her chair, her blue eyes locking on King's. She smirked, tongue running past her lower lip. He found himself unable to look away from her, silently wishing that he had kissed her a year ago. What would it feel like to kiss her now, to give in and just give her what she wanted? He couldn't deny the desire to touch her. And the toe of her boot stroking intently up his calf didn't help.

Django sat impartial and silent, setting his spoon back in his bowl as he glanced from King to Violet and back to King again. Schultz squinted in response to her advances, as if warning her to stop, yet beckoning her to continue. She shot him a cocky look.

Django knew that look-- that smug little grin. It was too familiar. Women-- playful women-- did that face. Hildi did it.

Django wondered imperviously if they loved each other; if King would think to marry the girl when she got older.

At least King wouldn't get the chance to lose her.

* * *

 

"Have you fellas got anyone picked out yet?"

"A few, yes," Dr. Schultz perused the wall of wanted posters in the sheriff's office. "We'll be tracking along the mountains for the next couple of months." One particular name caught his eye and he plucked the page off, folding it neatly into quarters and tucking it into the waist of his pants.

"Well," Sheriff Gus sat at his desk, flipping through a wad of bills. "Here's your seven-fifty for the Millers and two-hundred for Cowell. Got your things outside?"

"We do." King slung on his fur coat, glancing at Django, who stood patiently by the door. He pocketed the money and shrugged. "I suppose we'll be on our way then, Sheriff."

"We'll see you around, Dr. Schultz. And Django, nice meetin' you, son." Django nodded and tipped his hat silently before holding the door open for King.

The warmth from inside was instantly sucked away, puffy clouds billowing as they breathed in the cold air. Schultz walked down the steps of the Sheriff's office, pulling out his pocket watch as Django trailed behind.

Making his way around Fritz to load his bags, he almost bumped right into her and knocked her over.

"Um...hi," Violet murmured, the tail of her dress just barely touching his bags. She glanced over to make sure Django wouldn't see her and shivered.

"What are you doing here?" King hissed, holding her by her arms and walking her to the side of the building.

"I wanted to say goodbye." She looked at him sadly, her eyes red and glossed over. King felt a most intense surge of guilt in that moment, one he hadn't felt so strongly in years.

"I won't be gone long, my dear," he assured her, rubbing up and down her arms.

"I'm gonna miss you," she sniffled and stared at the ground. King lifted her chin to make her look at him.

"I'll miss you more than anything."

With that, she wrapped her arms around him and held on to his coat for dear life, burying her face in his chest.

Snow crunched under Django's feet as he stepped away from Tony. He had, of course, witnessed their little tryst, but elected to leave it private. Schultz turned at the sound and left a chaste kiss on Violet's head.

"I'll see you soon, meine schatz."

She lifted her head up and stared at him with intent. He could see his reflection in her sad eyes.

"Please be careful, King."

He smirked. "When am I not?"

"Shut up," she sighed, pushing him back towards his horse.

King simply chuckled and started to load his bags up for the winter ahead.


	2. Cake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the successful killing of the Wilson-Lowe gang, Django and Schultz return to Fort Pierre, where Violet has been waiting ever-so-impatiently, to collect their bounties.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tiny warning. part of this chapter is a tad bit explicit

SOUTH DAKOTA, MARCH 1859

Sunset was approaching fast, painting the surface of the snow a cold shade of blue as the sky darkened and the pink clouds twisted into strings of cotton. The Gus cabin was quiet; not even the tiniest gust of wind disturbed the pond out front. Marion dusted crumbs off the kitchen counter. Don sat with his ankles crossed on the tabletop, much to his wife's aggravation. Young Solomon and Clarence played board games by the fireplace after a long day of noisy wrestling, rabbit hunting, and bickering over whether Clarence, at the ripe age of twelve, was too young to marry.

Violet laid out on her bed, her door shut and locked. A box filled with folded and stacked papers sat before her, the envelopes tucked in the side. Grinning, she reread the words again from her most recent letter.

_My Dear Violet,_   
_Django and I are completing the trip back to South Dakota now. I'm sure we'll see each other very soon._

She buried her face in her pillow and squealed.

* * *

 

After a harsh four months of bounty hunting across the Dakotas and into the mountains of Wyoming, Schultz and Django made their valiant return back to Fort Pierre Chouteau, five corpses piled on the back of their beloved packhorse, Poncho.

Sheriff Gus expected to hear them ride in one of those days. The silence was killing him; almost had him praying for a crime, some kind of excitement to wake up the town. The sound of heavy hooves clambering through the snow alerted him and he was instantly out the front door, alerting Marion to get started on something special for supper.

The two men swayed on the backs of their horses, looking terribly worn out from the journey behind them.

"Doctor. Django," the Sheriff announced. "How the hell are you?" he paused, squinting at their third horse, corpses and all.

"Who the hell've you got there?"

"The Wilson-Lowe gang," King declared, exhaustion clear in his voice.

"Who the hell is the Wilson-Lowe gang?"

"Bad Chuck Wilson and Meaner Bobby Lowe," he pointed at the bodies. "And three of their acolytes."

"Huh." Gus nodded, impressed. "Well, just leave 'em out here, they ain't goin' nowhere." Django and Schultz hopped off their horses.

"Why don't you come on in out of the snowy-snow and get yourself some coffee? Had a birthday yesterday--got some cake! Pretty good..." He shuffled inside, followed by King and Django.

"Doctor Schultz!" Marion chirped, turning to the men at the door. "Django! Would either of you gentlemen like a piece of cake?"

"I'm alright, thank you, Mrs. Gus." King shrugged his coat off, snow crusted on the tips of the fur, and hung it by the door.

"And you, Django?"

The freeman tilted his head. "I ain't never had no cake before, Mrs. Sheriff."

"Well, come over here and give it a try! It's yellow cake," he placed his coat next to King's before stepping into the warm kitchen. "Don, do want some more coffee?"

"Can't say I couldn't use another."

"Oh! And Doctor Schultz!" she called out as he shuffled through the kitchen. He turned his head back as she scraped the frosting off her knife and handed Django a slice. "Dinner will be done in a couple of minutes, so don't get too cozy."

King gave a quick smile, nodded, and continued out of the room. He remembered where the guest room was-- just past the living area and down the hall. He carried his bag in one hand, his grey jacket slung over his free arm as he wondered how Violet was holding up. The boys, absorbed in a head-to-head game of dominoes, didn't take notice as he walked past.

Schultz was not expecting anything more than an empty hallway when he turned the corner, much less the full one-hundred pound force of a girl being thrown at him. Violet's arms instantly locked around him, her wet mouth on his. He had, for far too long, wondered what it would feel like; he explored the deepest and most private corners of his mind imagining it. She tasted sweeter than he had speculated, like cherries.

He dropped his bag to slide his hands up her tiny waist, allowing her to pull him urgently into her room. Slamming the door, she locked it behind her and frantically began unbuttoning his waistcoat as she peppered kisses down his neck.

"Violet--"

"Shh," she bit her lip and worked her way to the buttons of his dress shirt, shutting him up with a hard kiss. "My birthday was yesterday," she murmured, kissing his ear. King sighed and slid his hands down to hers.

"You wanna know what I wished for?" Violet pulled back, looking at him quizzically. "I wished you would come back today. And it came true."

She ran her hands down the exposed half of his chest.

"Violet, I--"

"Hush." She hurriedly unbuckled his belt, leaving a long kiss on his jaw. His beard tickled her lips and she smiled.

He bit back a groan as she unzipped his pants. "You don't know how much I missed you," she purred, her hand slipping past the waistband of his grey trousers. He gasped at the feeling of her slender fingers barely grazing over his manhood.

"I can't-- we shouldn't--" King stammered, sweat beginning to bead at his hairline.

"How come?" Her mouth hovered over his. "C'mon. Just five minutes."

"Five is a bit insulting," he smirked. Violet rolled her eyes and stroked his cock.

"Ten."

King stared obstinately. He hated how easily she could overpower his judgement. He had barely opened his mouth to speak when her mother's voice rang out across the hallway.

"Boys! Violet! Dinner is ready!"

She pulled away from him slowly, sliding her hand out of his pants. Grinning cattily, she slipped out of the shadowy bedroom and into the warm glow of the hall, leaving him to button his shirt back up frantically.

Violet sauntered into the kitchen, where her brothers scrambled to their seats and Marion pushed in Don's chair.

"Violet, dear, can you call Doctor Schultz, please?" she said, moving around the corner to seat Django.

The girl slinked to her spot at the table, kicking her chair out of the way to sit. She plopped down, watching out of the kitchen walkway and into the dark hall.

"Oh, he's coming."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sry this one is short rip


	3. Midnight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Violet pays King a visit in the middle of the night.

Sheriff Gus paced across his office, his hands cold as he poured out two tins of coffee. He slid one across his desk.

“You see, Doctor Schultz,” he announced, plopping down in his seat across from the shorter man, “I had no idea the Wilson-Lowe gang existed much less were wanted for robbery. Show me them papers with the prices on ‘em.”

Schultz dug his hand in the pocket of his waistcoat, slipping out two neatly folded pages and handing them across the table. Django, who stood at the wall next to him, squinted at the posters, trying to read the names aloud.

“Willis Way,” he said slowly. “That’s five-hundred.”

“So,” the sheriff hummed, eyes glancing back and forth from either page. “That’s five-hundred for Wilson, seven-fifty for Lowe…total of twelve-fifty,” he set the posters down and opened his drawer, rustling through his things. “How about we make each them sidekicks worth one-fifty a piece, that way you get an even seventeen-hundred?”

“David...Varley,” Django stuttered from behind him. “Three-fifty.”

King smiled at the sheriff. “That’s quite alright with us, isn’t it Django?”

“Seventeen-hundred? Yeah, I like that,” he paused before turning back to the wall as Gus began to count out the bills. “Warren...V-Vanders...two-thousand dollars--”

“That one,” King blurted. Django took the bottom edge of the delicate page and yanked it from the wall.

* * *

 

Part of him wished they hadn't met.

He stared blankly at the dark ceiling, his eyes tracing patterns that didn’t exist. Laying on his back, not having the slightest as to how late it had gotten, King felt guilty. He felt like if she hadn't fallen for him then maybe she'd be better off. She had everything ahead of her--she was young and beautiful with a good life and a loving family. He was sure every man and boy in town had tried their hand at her with just cause. Plenty of handsome ones, too.

But King couldn't wrap his head around it. Why him? He would only burden her with unnecessary pain and grief. She didnt need that, certainly not if it was all for the sake of being with him.

He typically didn't find women complicated as most men did, but Violet was a complete enigma to him. And she had no idea.

She had no idea she was wasting her life away pining over a man who could never satisfy her. She had no idea she had so much life and prosperity ahead of her with a better man. She had no idea she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen and it broke his heart to admit how badly he wanted to love her.

Violet stared out the window.

Black.

She knew sleep wouldn't come easy. He was all she could think about. No boy in town could live up to him; the way he made her feel. They were all too ugly or too demanding or too sex-driven. But King was perfect; she knew it from the day they met.

Did he want her as much as she did him? She worried deeply that he didn't. It made her heart hurt.

The only thing she could really do was find out for herself.

Violet kicked her covers off, shivering as she crawled off the edge of her bed and tip-toed across the wooden floors. Opening the door agonizingly slowly, she peeped her head out, shooting a glance in either direction down the hall. Empty.

The house was dead silent, save for the occasional snore echoing from her father’s room down the hall and the tiny creaks beneath her feet. She closed her eyes as she passed her brothers’ room, silently praying she wouldn’t wake them. It wasn’t like she could see anyways.

It was by a complete stroke of luck that she didn’t scream.

A soft grunt escaped her mouth as she stepped into what she knew was a man’s chest. The thought that she just ran into her father made her blood run cold and she shivered, only to be met with a rather unfamiliar voice.

“Sorry, miss.” It was too high above her to be King’s voice. _Must be that Django boy._

“What are you doing out here?” Violet hissed, stepping back out of his shadow. The faint moonlight streaming through the window confirmed her assumption of his identity.

“I’s tryin’ to find the shithouse, miss,” she wanted to smile; he looked so funny in the nightshirt her mother had leant him. “Didn’t mean to wake nobody.”

“It’s fine-- it’s down that hall and out the door to the right.” She pointed towards a dark doorway across the living area, illuminated only by a blue glow reflecting from outside, so soft it was barely visible.

He gave a small nod and maneuvered around her, following the trail of light. She waited until he ever-so-quietly closed the back door behind him before she swung back around and prowled towards the guest room.

King had hardly given sleep any thought. He knew better. His wandering thoughts of her were interrupted as the doorknob turned slowly; he was well aware who was coming. She may have confused the hell out of him, but she wasn’t completely unpredictable.

She peeped her head past the door.

“Can I come in?”

King merely gestured for her to come forward. She crept in and shut the door as quietly as she could, not looking him in the eye.

“I need to talk to you,” she whispered and walked towards the bed. “It’s important.”

He shifted the blanket off and threw his legs over the edge, sitting up as she settled next to him. Dim blue light flooded in from the window above the bed and made her eyes glassy. She stared at him pensively.

“I’m going with you,” she blurted, louder than she intended.

King didn’t miss a beat. “Like hell you are.”

Violet furrowed her brow and crossed her arms. “Well, why not?” she gritted.

“It’s not safe,” he sighed and stood from the bed, pacing to his jacket that hung on the footboard. “You need to stay here with your family.”

Digging through the pocket, he pulled a small box of matches before moving around back to where Violet sat. He struck a match and opened the lantern on the nightstand.

“But it’s boring here.”

“You’re telling me you’d rather be in constant danger than be bored?” It was more of a statement than it was a question. He lit the gas in the lantern and the room began to glow a dull gold.

Violet wanted to say yes. Bounty hunting was exciting, was it not? Anything was more exciting than living in the middle of South Dakota sewing pillows and cooking all day.

But she didn’t want to be difficult.

“You can’t,” King reiterated, shaking the match until the flame died.

“Yes I can!” she whispered excitedly. “I want to do what you do.”

“Bounty hunting?” Violet nodded. He frowned disapprovingly. “ _Why_? I kill people for a living.” Her expression fell slightly. “It isn’t fun. Whoever or whatever made you think that way is wrong.”

She bit the inside of her cheek and cast her eyes to the floor. He felt bad saying it, but he knew her naivety was going to get her hurt one day. She may as well be told before she got herself killed.

They sat in silence, every second feeling like an eternity. Violet finally turned to him, scooting closer and closing the gap between them.

“King?” she whispered, placing her hand at the back of his neck. He raised an eyebrow.

“I don’t want you to go.” She left a chaste kiss on his lips before moving down his jaw. “I miss you too much,” her breath tickled his ear. She kissed down his neck and he looked to the ceiling to stop himself from letting her win.

“ _Please_ ,” she whined, biting his collarbone.

“Violet.”

“Hm?” She reached under his nightshirt and he grabbed both her wrists, gently pulling her off him.

“I can’t let you come.”

Violet could feel herself tearing up. She looked away from him, biting her lip before he took her chin in his hand and turned her face to him.

“It’s not fair,” she choked, tears threatening to fall. King wrapped his arms around her, holding her head to his chest while he stroked her hair. He could feel her crying.

“I know, mein liebchen.”

He laid back, letting her rest her head against him as he held her. They sat in silence for several minutes, save for the occasional snivel from Violet. When she was finished, she stared at the wall, head resting on his heart.

“King?”

“Yes, my dear.”

She was holding his sides tight, pulling herself up to look him in the eyes. She lowered her voice again.

“Take me.”

His eyes darkened. He couldn’t pretend he didn’t constantly think about it. May as well make love to her while he still could.

Wrapping his hands in her hair, he brought her face to his and kissed her hard. He felt her tongue teasing at his mouth and he sat up, pulling open the small buttons of her nightgown. He leaned back, pausing to look at her face again.

King smiled lovingly before leaning over to blow out the lantern.


End file.
